Remain Nameless
by gothpandaotaku
Summary: He didn't need a name for these feelings. He didn't want one. Unrequited Wincest; Major Pining and angst on Dean's part; Experimental; Oneshot.


**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my own angst. And a tee shirt with their faces on it. **

**This was born of my forced week in a practically isolated cabin. Technically I was on vacation, but I was feeling angsty. Probably cause we left my little brother behind… they grow up so fast… :looks into the distance:**

**WARNINGS: Unrequited Wincest; Major pining and angst on Dean's part; Language; Experimental writing.**

**I've never written anything like this before, so here we go… I'd appreciate it if you'd leave a review on your way out to let me know how it turned out! Plus, you'll get cookies.**

* * *

_I was born in a big grey cloud_  
_Screaming out a love song_  
_All the broken chords and unnamed cries_  
_What a place to come from_

_I wish to remain nameless_  
_And live without shame_  
_'Cause what's in a name, oh_  
_I still remain the same_

_You can call it what you want_  
_You can call me anything you want_  
_You can call us what you want_  
_You can call me anything you want_

_Everybody lets you down_  
_In this brief? hole of a town_  
_What a difference of the rushing out_  
_Tell me what you're running from_

_I know everybody lets you down_  
_And I'll do the same_  
_But know I'll always be around_  
_This can remain the same_

_Call me when you need me_  
_Call me anything you want_  
_Darling believe me_  
_Nothing I haven't done before_

_Call me when you need me_  
_Call me when you need me_  
_Darling believe me_  
_Darling believe me_

_Call me when you need me_  
_Call me when you need me_  
_Darling believe me_  
_Darling believe me_

_Call me when you need me_  
_Call me when you need me_  
_Darling believe me_  
_Darling believe me_

_Call me when you need me_

_ -"Remain Nameless" by Florence + The Machine_

* * *

You don't know why you have these feelings. You only know you would do anything-_anything- _to get rid of them.

You don't even have a name for them. It's just a dull ache in your heart, or a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach- in your very being. It's only when you think about it that the dull ache becomes a sharp blade, digging into your soul deeper and deeper with every beat of your withered heart.

You try not to, think about it, that is. But you're only human. Sometimes the wall you have between you and this _thing _cracks the tiniest bit when you're lying awake at night. Knowing that he's only a few feet away in the next bed. You can hear him breathing. It should be comforting, and sometimes it is, but most of the time it's just a cruel taunt.

The nights are the worst. You _think _at night. You _dream _at night. No matter what you tell yourself in the light of day, your dreams are honest- terribly, horribly, disgustingly honest. You can't lie to yourself in a dream.

You dream about him. Not always, but often. Usually you simply hold him, breathe in his scent, or at least how you imagine it to be this close. Lying in a shared bed. Occasionally it might be a little more… vivid. The first thing you do when you wake up after one of those is grab a bottle and drink, drink as much it takes to get those images out of your head.

Other times it's a different time, a different place. A place that's forever out of your reach. A place where he smiles at you, laughs at you, touches you. He is _happy_, so _you_ are happy. Everything is bright and full of color and sound. There's no pain here, the only thing you can feel is each other. And that's how you know you're dreaming.

Those dreams are the worst.

When you wake up from one of those your heart is racing, and you look over at him in the next bed and you pray-_pray_ with all your might that he doesn't know, that he doesn't hear anything, that he can't see the traitorous tears streaming down your face like the pathetic piece of shit you are. Your breath hitches and you try again but you can't, you can't breathe, and it's like you're choking, you're drowning, because you _are._

And you don't know how much longer you can keep your head above water.

Because every night that you lie awake thinking, dreaming, praying, and hoping, that wall gets another crack. It's started to crumble after all these years. There's even a small hole where your heart, or something like it, used to be inside your chest. Small, because it's not like you had a lot to begin with.

It could be so many other things-_should be _so many other things- but your worst fear is that the wall will just… crumble completely and waste away to nothing without any warning. You know it will happen one day, sooner or later _(god, please let it be later)_ but as long as you have warning that's okay. Because if you have warning, you can leave. Before the last piece is reduced to dust and carried away in the wind you'll be gone.

But not before. Not one second before.

Every second you have with him is a treasure-no, a fucking _miracle._ It's nothing short of miraculous every time you wake up and he's still there. It's nothing short of a godsend every time you hear him say your name. And if he _smiles _at you… well, the jokes on you, because you can't even think about it without another crack in the wall. To stare at him is to stare at the sun: stare too long at its beauty, you burn up. Isn't that just so _you?_

Still, it doesn't matter. You'll take whatever you can get. Like a starving man. A beggar, because that's what you are. You beg and plead and hunger for whatever scrap of affection he'll throw your way. It doesn't have to be a lot. Anything, anything at all, is enough to keep you going. He just has to look at you and everything's fine. He just has to be there, and everything is right with the world.

Because that's true. It's absolutely pathetic, but you can't even function without him. When he's gone, it's not just that the world is out of alignment, wrong. When he's gone, _the world goes with him. _It simply ceases to exist, just like everything else. _You _cease to exist. Your heart, your soul, your everything, he takes it with him. Everything that makes you, you is made of him. It belongs to him.

And he doesn't even know it. You'll do everything within your power to keep it that way.

You fill the hole up with cheap imitations. A lanky brunette at the local bar. Once, just once, one of those brunettes was a guy. But you couldn't do it. It would be… _defiling _him somehow, you thought. The closest that came to the real thing was Lisa. You miss her. But you weren't good enough for her. She's better off without you, just like everyone else. You loved her, you really did, and Ben too. With everything you had. It's just that what's left of you is so broken, so damaged, it doesn't amount to much.

You do a good job of covering it up, whatever _it_ is. You don't put a name to it. You don't dare. If something has a name, that makes it real. It gives it power. And _it_ is already too strong. You want it gone, but since that will never happen you do your best to deal. Killing monsters and burying yourself in work helps, sure. Alcohol helps, definitely. Denial is your best friend. Lies are the only truth you know. You even lie to yourself. It's the only way you can be around him. To look him in the eye.

You've never stopped to ask yourself why. The why doesn't matter. It just _is._ It's always been there, and will remain long after you're gone. And to wonder why, you'd have to think about it, question it. Another crack in the wall, and where would you be?

You want to hate him for it, for what he does to you. Wish you _could _hate him. Maybe an inconsequential part of you does. But then he looks at you and you're finished. There's no room for anything else. You've already given him everything you have to offer. Even your soul.

So as you collapse into the next lumpy motel bed in the next town on the next hunt, exhausted not just in body but in soul, you wait for the night to come. If only for the morning that comes soon after. You pray that when you fall asleep you'll fall into a blissful _nothing._ You know it's useless, but you do it anyway.

You see him do the same in the bed next to you. You say your half-mumbled goodnights. You hear his breathing slow and steady into that of sleep. You wonder if he's dreaming, and what he's dreaming about. Surely nothing like yours.

You close your eyes and try, always _try _because you can never actually manage to do it, to push these nameless feelings away to some dark corner of your soul where they will never see the light of day.

Where they will remain nameless.


End file.
